


From the Refuge

by Alkimara



Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: M/M, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-03
Updated: 2019-05-03
Packaged: 2020-02-16 10:06:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18689323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alkimara/pseuds/Alkimara
Summary: Spot and Crutchie have been together for a while now, but after Crutchie getting caught in the fight, Spot worries for his boyfriend.





	From the Refuge

_"Spot... You gotta help us."_

_"I can't, Char. I gotta wait to see if the other Newsies are really gonna band together, or if they're just gonna leave it to Brooklyn. We got a lotta our own, but we don' got enough to win the strike by ourselves."_

_"Leo-"_

_"I'm sorry, Charlie, I really am."_

Spot would do anything at the moment to go back and change that conversation. That was back before the fight had broken out, back when the strike was first beginning, back when everything was just taking off. He’d wanted to help, but he was scared. He was tired. He didn’t want his own boys getting beaten up in a battle that wasn’t theirs…

It was theirs.

"You're sure it was the gimp?" Spot asked for the hundredth time.

"They knocked him down, beat him with the crutch, cuffed him an' dragged 'im off, Conlon, **yes** I'm sure!!" Graves said, exasperated.

Spot sighed, running his hands through his hair. Not Crutchie. Anyone, even Jack himself, and Spot would’ve been okay. But Charlie…

_"What's a gimp doin' all alone in Brooklyn?"_

_"What's a buff doin' sitting on a bridge in the middle of the night?"_

Spot shouldn't have fallen for that lopsided grin, for those shining and hopeful eyes. But he did, he did and he did it really fast. He should've tried harder. Tried harder to what? Not fall in love?

Tried harder to protect him.

_"Crutch, be careful, okay? Promise me you won't get hurt worse off than you are."_

_"I promise."_

Damn crip was too damn slow. That’s what his boys had heard Jack yell in horror. And for once, he agreed.

"Did they win?" Spot said finally.

"They fought and they won the battle accordin’ to some definitions, but not the war.” Graves wrung his hat in his hands before putting it back on and pulling it proper.

"Then Brooklyn's gotta help," Spot said, stopping his pacing to face his second. "Gather everyone up." Graves nodded and ran off.

Spot turned, looking down at the piece of cloth wrapped around his wrist. He’d fight the war. He’d _win_ the war.

And he’d get Charlie back.

* * *

Crutchie sighed, looking down at the paper in his lap. He took a slow breath to stop shaking.

"Dear... Jack.... Greetings...."

He stopped, shaking too much. "Damn... He's gonna kill me..." He murmured. He was trying to write to his best friend, trying to vent something, but he heard Spot's voice in his head. He promised not to get caught, promised that he'd be okay, and right now he was caught and everything hurt and he wasn't okay-

He took a deep breath. "…From the Refuge."

He needed to focus. He needed to write something to Jack, because then Spot would ask about it, and then Jack would show Spot, and Spot would know he's okay. Or maybe he'd just tell Jack everything and only tell Spot what Spot needed to know. Or maybe-

None of that would work. He didn't even know how to get the letter out into Jack's hands. “How… are you? I’m okay…” Write anyways. Try to write anyways. “Guess I wasn’t much help yesterday.”

The memories of hitting one of the Delanceys – he wasn’t paying attention to which – made him crack a tiny smile, but then the memory of getting beat up with his _own_ crutch made that smile falter. “Snyder soaked me real good with my crutch…” He wrote, hand still shaking. His leg ached.

Wait. Wait, did he write his name?

“Oh yeah-“ He mumbled, writing, “Jack, this is Crutchie, by the way.”

He curled up quickly as a guard came by, hiding everything under the blankets. He just wanted to see Spot's face again, to feel Spot's arms around him again, to taste those lips one last time before he wound up dead in a prison.

No. No, he'd be rescued.

He just had to wait.

He turned back to the paper, letting out a breath and starting to write again despite how much he tried not to move as he heard footsteps underneath him. “These here guards, they is rude…” He wrote, managing a slight smile at what he was saying. He bit his lip, writing more hurriedly. He missed the sky. He missed hanging out with his brother under the stars.

He missed the Brooklyn sky just as much, hanging out with Spot.

But maybe… Maybe he just wasn’t safe here. He already got put in the Refuge. If he did escape… He’d go with Jack to Santa Fe.

He’d bring Spot, and Race, and Romeo, and all the other Newsies, too, if he could. He was allowed to dream, wasn’t he? When he could barely see his hand moving across the paper?

He didn’t realize he was muttering until he heard another boy shush him. “Damn this place,” He mumbled, rubbing his eyes.

“I'll be fine, good as new, but there's one thing I need you to do,” Crutchie wrote. _Tell everyone I’m okay._ “On the rooftop you said that a family looks out for each other, so you tell all the fellas from me, to protect one another.” _Don’t worry about me, because I’m okay. Focus on the fight._

_Win for me._

“The end, your friend…

“Your **best** friend…

“Your brother,

“Crutchie.”

* * *

Spot was ready. Brooklyn was there, the Bronx and Manhattan and so many others were there, and it was time to rally together.

And where was Jack?

They were listening to Davey, who’d come with Jack and Crutchie to try to win him over, but Jack himself? Missing. “Where’s Jack Kelly?”

And then Jack came, and he’d wished the man had stayed hidden in whatever slimey corner he came from.

Spot couldn't believe what he was hearing. Jack Kelly was cowering before Pulitzer, talking some kinda shit about taking a deal? Cower and accept the price for two years? Crutchie wouldn't make it two years, let alone two weeks. He moved forwards, and shoved Jack off the stage, and...

That was money.

"Let's go."

"Conlon-?"

"I said let's go."

* * *

Spot blinked. A Newsies banner? Printing press? It was all comin' in too fast, but it was better than the Refuge blueprints he was looking over. "Hey, hey! Shut- fucking hell- **SHUT UP!!** " The room quieted down. Spot's gaze leveled with Race's, "Lead the way, Racetrack."

Spot basically ran with Race. He didn't care that they were taking the long route to catch other Newsies, he just needed to physically do something.

The minutes were endless, until finally he was led down with the other Newsies where the lone printing press was. He looked at Jack, "See you've changed your mind."

"I don' think it was ever changed in the first place," Jack grinned, the two spitting in their palms and shaking hands as Spot moved by. He picked up the stack, looking around. If Crutchie were here...

He picked up another stack. Crutchie's stack. He was gonna get him out.

* * *

Crutchie blinked. That was the governor. What was he doing here? What was going on? His eyes widened- "Everyone get up! We're taking you back to town."

He perked up, someone helping him down. The governor walked over to him, "Are you alright, son?"

Crutchie was just. Gawking for a moment before he snapped his jaw shut, "Y-Y-Yes sir, just a bum leg, I'll be fine!"

"How's about you ride with me up front?"

"Up... Up front?"

"That's what I said. You can walk?"

"I can walk!" Crutchie answered dumbly, following him with wide eyes. He was going home. He was going to see Jack and Race and Davey and Spot and-

And Spot.

His smile grew.

* * *

Spot's eyes widened. Crutchie? That was his Charlie. He felt relief, waiting, biding his time. Crutchie was looking around, but didn't see Spot. He didn't even know if Spot had showed up.

"Take him away-"

"Ah, please, may I do the honors, your highness??" Crutchie asked as he turned, eyes wide. He felt himself giddy at the permission granted.

“You have _got_ to be joking!”

“Yeah, and you’ll be laughin’ all the way to the pen, little man!” Crutchie said with a smile, turning and cuffing him, and making sure to get a hit in. He was smiling, watching and listening and-

Crutchie yipped as he felt someone tugging his arm. He let the force pull him away- and then he felt a pair of lips collapsing onto his. Crutchie let those arms just hold him, let himself just melt into the other. "H-Hey," Crutchie giggled softly.

"Don't you ever scare me like that again," Spot murmured, moving his hands to cup Crutchie's face. "Never. Not ever. You hear me?"

"I promise," Crutchie hummed.

"You promised me last time," Spot sighed, looking worriedly at him.

"How about I double promise?" Crutchie smiled softly. Spot stared. Crutchie moved his arms carefully over Spot's, “I got somethin’ on my face?”

“You got a black eye,” Spot muttered, leaning up to kiss it.

Crutchie blushed. He missed how soft Spot was with him. "I love you, Leo."

Spot felt his face start to heat up. He moved to kiss Crutchie again, "I love you, too, Charlie."

"CRUTCHIE, SINCE WHEN WERE YOU DATIN' SPOT CONLON?!" Jack exclaimed as he looked over. A few of the Brooklyn Newsies who had known about the two were snickering, a few of them had open mouths.

Spot snickered, carefully picking up Crutchie to his chest. Crutchie squeaked in response, laughing as Spot spun him, "Since he started visitin' me, Jackieboy. I'm gonna steal your number two." He started peppering Crutchie's face in kisses, not caring who saw.

"Get a room!" Davey laughed.

"How's about _my_ room? Char?" Spot looked at Crutchie, who flushed.

"S-Sounds g-good to me," He murmured, leaning up to melt in another kiss.

 

**Author's Note:**

> The first version of this can be found at https://alkimara.tumblr.com/post/184203054465/from-the-refuge . I tried to revise it a little before posting it on here. I'm probably not continuing this (never say never, I have ideas for their first meeting owo), but I certainly enjoyed writing it!


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